


the deeper the wound, the harder i swoon

by cori_the_bloody



Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fix-It, Light Angst, One Shot, Tumblr Prompt, You're Welcome, and two parts wholesome girl group content, post 3.07, this is three parts nathaniel and rebecca being horny idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 03:29:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14275968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cori_the_bloody/pseuds/cori_the_bloody
Summary: “I like being out of my therapy bubble, I do. But if I let myself float too far away then I’ll be in freefall, plummeting toward the ground with no bubbly parachute.“I don’t think that metaphor tracks.”“Ugh, whatever. The point is I don’t want to let myself get distracted right now."Rebecca's really trying to do this therapy thing right, even in the face of overwhelming temptation.





	the deeper the wound, the harder i swoon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notbang](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notbang/gifts).



> Thank you to Bethany for using your awesome editing skills to make my fic better and for your kind encouragements, which make my life better.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this post-3.07 fic inspired by many small grudges I hold against 3b and the prompt "things you said when you were drunk."

“Cookie!” Paula says, letting herself into the house. “Are you ready for this? I know I am—bring on the French toast and mimosas. It’s brunch time. Time to brunch it up.”

Rebecca jumps when she hears the lock rattling, her mind jerking back to the present. She snaps the lid on the tiny velvet box she’d been studying shut and pushes it aside on the counter.

“You’re in a good mood,” she says, watching with an almost-smile as Paula dances across the room to the kitchen island.

“Yeah,” she says, then smiles a big, toothy smile and nods. “Yeah. You know what? I really am. Scott and I went on a date last night, and, I don’t know. I’m feeling good about our marriage for the first time since...” she trails off, thinking. “Well, probably since I married him.”

“That’s good,” Rebecca says distractedly, her eyes wandering back to the jewelry box. “That’s, like, that’s so good.”

Paula notices her preoccupation and grabs for it before Rebecca can stop her.

“These are cute earrings,” Paula says. “They match that one bow necklace you have.”

“I know,” Rebecca says miserably, letting her head fall to the countertop with a _thud_.

“Okay, that’s it. You’ve got something major going on that you’re not telling me. Spill.”

Rebecca groans and turns her head, pressing her cheek into the smooth, cool marble. “No. No! We shouldn’t just rush on from your thing. That’s what the old Rebecca and Paula would do, and we’re new and improved. We’re spoons made of solid gold…encrusted with diamonds. God, we probably cost just a ton of money.”

Paula smiles and reaches across the island to push back the hair that’s falling into Rebecca’s eyes. “There’ll be plenty of time for me to bore you with the details of my date at brunch.”

“It’s not boring, though,” Rebecca says, lifting her head and staring Paula down. “It’s not boring! Your life does not bore me. Okay?”

“Okay,” Paula agrees, but she doesn’t sound quite convinced. “Now just tell me what the heck is going on. The suspense is harshing my vibe.”

Rebecca frowns, feeling guilt twist its way up her throat, curling around her need to blurt everything out. Like she just swallowed the world’s most confusing Twizzler.

“Harshing your vibe?” She forces out a weak laugh. “You need to stop hanging out with Heather, like, immediately.”

“Rebecca.”

“Okay, fine!” She takes a deep breath. “Nathaniel and I are having sex. Like, a lot of sex. We started right after the trip to Buffalo, and we kinda haven’t stopped all week.”

Paula blinks. “Um, okay.”

“But like, it’s kind of more than that? I don’t know. I roped him into a scheme to get back at Josh when the whole lawsuit revenge wasn’t doing it for me, and we had sex then, too, and after he’d gotten all ‘ _I feel things for you._ ’ But I had a lot going on, you know, so we didn’t really talk about it, and after I got out of the hospital, he was so sweet. He got me these roses and he came to see how I was doing and we sexted and you know how my impulse control is, it doesn’t work right! So of course I jumped into bed with him after that because I wanted to and sex with Nathaniel is _good_ and—”

“Slow down,” Paula says, waving a hand in front of her face. “Like, all the way down to a nice, gentle stop.”

“I know it’s bad. I’m bad.”

Paula shakes her head. “I’m just trying to process, okay? I mean, I knew there was _something_ going on between the two of you. There was the whole bridal carry thing you guys did, and he stuck around for the convention fallout—like, stuck around way too long. Plus, he took your move back to New York pretty hard.”

“He did?” Rebecca asks, feeling a pleasant warmth flood her cheeks.

Paula’s studying her reaction, and it only makes her flush harder.

“Not to sound too dramatic,” Paula says, nodding, “but he was basically devastated by the idea of you never coming back.”

That makes Rebecca’s stomach clench.

“What do the earrings have to do with all this?” Paula asks after a second.

Rebecca winces. “They were a gift.”

“And you hate gifts all of a sudden?”

“No, I love them,” Rebecca says, a pathetic whine in her voice. “But I think it means our time together meant more to him than it was supposed to.”

“Ah.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t like him?” Paula asks.

“No, that’s not the problem, exactly,” Rebecca says, shifting her weight guiltily. “It’s more like I…I don’t really know how I feel. I like when he’s nice to me. And he makes me feel tingly. Like, all-over tingly. In my brain, in my fingertips, in my stomach, in my va—”

“Got it,” Paula says, cutting her off.

“But there’s too much going on in my brain right now for me to decide if it’s anything more than that.”

Understanding dawns on Paula’s face. “Aw, hun, look at you being all introspective.”

Rebecca sighs. “I like being out of my therapy bubble, I do. But if I let myself float too far away then I’ll be in freefall, plummeting toward the ground with no bubbly parachute.”

“I don’t think that metaphor tracks.”

“Ugh, whatever. The point is I don’t want to let myself get distracted right now. Or _too_ distracted. You know how my attention span is. Expecting no distractions is just unrealistic.”

Paula beams at her, and Rebecca rolls her shoulders back, standing a little taller.

“So what do I do?” Rebecca asks. “Ghost him, right? I can start looking for new places to live—preferably somewhere that has a better security system than ‘intruder axe’—and I’m sure I can find another place to work. I mean, you’ve seen my resume, it’s solid. I’ll need a new phone number and a new email and—”

“Rebecca,” Paula says, the proud smile slipping. “I think you know exactly what to do, and it’s painfully simple.”

Rebecca waits expectantly, eyebrows raised.

Paula exhales noisily through her nose. “Just tell him what you told me, doofus.”

“About the tingles? I don’t really think that’ll be helpful.”

“About not wanting distractions,” Paula practically yells, clenching her fists. “God, I love you, but you are so dense sometimes.”

“No, that’s…he’ll be crushed. I can’t do that to him.”

Paula slides the jewelry box back across the counter. “Be honest with him now, or wait until later and risk embarrassing him further. It’s your choice.”

“You’re right,” Rebecca says after a beat, groaning.

“No shit,” Paula says. “Now let’s go eat all the breakfast carbs we can before we explode.”

###

Rebecca steps up to the door of Nathaniel’s apartment and closes her eyes, taking a moment.

Even with all of Paula’s coaching over brunch the day before, she doesn’t feel quite ready to face him. But she can do it. She _needs_ to.

Explain, grovel, leave. It’s a simple plan, easy to stick to.

She can do this.

With a deep breath, she knocks on the door.

Nathaniel answers it sooner than she’s expecting, and, judging from the fact that he has one shoe on and one off, it’s because he was already standing there in the doorway.

“Hey,” he says, a surprised smile spreading from his lips up to his eyes as he takes her in.

She can’t help herself when he looks at her like that. She smiles back. “Hey.”

They stand there for a long moment, staring at each other, unsure what comes next.

Rebecca clears her throat. “You, uh, on your way out, or?”

“No,” he says quickly, eagerly. Rebecca’s stomach curls in on itself. “I just got back from the office.”

“Logging those weekend hours, huh?” she asks, leaning in to punch him playfully in the arm.

He laughs, unfazed by her nervous energy, and steps out of the doorway to let her in.

“So,” he says.

At the same time, she starts, “Nathaniel, I—”

They both laugh, flustered, and she gestures for him to go ahead.

“Remember that time we got stuck in the elevator?” he asks.

“Yeah, dude, it was like two months ago.”

He pouts out his lip. “I’m trying to do a bit.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Ooooh, like when I…?” He nods. “Got it.”

“Now it’s just going to feel forced,” he says, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “But basically I was ramping up to shower sex. So there you have it.”

“Not elevator sex?” she asks, cocking her head at him.

“I’d feel like a bad neighbor monopolizing the elevator for too long, so I figured the shower was the next best thing.”

“How considerate,” she says, trying and failing to bite back a smile.

He returns it, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “So, what do you say?”

She considers it longer than she’s proud of, seriously tempted by the offer. He must see the conflict written on her face, though, because his smile slips and he nods toward the couch.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

Rebecca sits, folding her legs up under her and angling her body toward him.

“I, um…this is…” she struggles.

“You can take your time,” he says gently, and Rebecca feels the need to cry pricking at her eyes.

“Don’t be so nice,” she says. “You’re making this harder.”

His eyebrows come together. “Making what harder?”

Rebecca shakes her head and reaches into her bag, taking out the small, velvet box.

“I can’t accept these,” she says, holding it out to him.

“You don’t like them?” he asks. “They seemed like something you’d wear, but I’m happy to exchange them for something else if you—”

“Nathaniel, no,” Rebecca says, setting the box on the cushion between them and letting her hands fall into her lap. “It has nothing to do with me liking them. It’s actually a really thoughtful present. I just.” She takes a deep breath. “If I keep those, then this becomes something more than it is.”

She lifts her head to gauge his reaction. His lips are tight with confusion, and she imagines reaching out to smooth the tension away with her thumb.

She imagines climbing in his lap and kissing him. She imagines grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and tugging him toward his huge bed. She imagines pressing him into the plush mattress and helping them both forget about why this got complicated so quickly.

But she doesn’t do any of that. Just sits, holding her breath and waiting for him to say something.

“I see,” he finally manages.

“You do?” she asks.

He stands up and starts to pace in front of the couch. She watches, unsure what to do next. This is where the groveling would go if something about the tension in his shoulders and the briskness of his pace wasn’t telling Rebecca to stay silent.

“Okay,” he says, coming to an abrupt stop.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, letting out a deep breath. All the strain in his expression and shoulders seems to leave with the gust of air. “Of course.”

“I’m…confused. You realize I just broke up with you, right?”

He lets out a short laugh and perches on the edge of the couch, placing a warm hand on her knee. “Rebecca, we weren’t together. You made it clear that you weren’t ready for a relationship, and what can I do but respect that?”

His thumb rubs tiny circles into her skin, making her mind go a little hazy. “But the…and you…with the…”

He smiles at her, but this time it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You should still keep the earrings,” he says, setting the box in her lap. “If you really do like them, that is.”

“But I really shouldn’t?” It comes out as a question.

“They were a gift,” Nathaniel says. “No strings attached. Really.”

She nods, grabbing onto the box, her fingers squeezing too tightly. “So where does that leave us?”

He pats her knee and then stands again. “I’m not really sure, but could we maybe talk about it later? With or without you, I do need to take that shower.”

“Oh, right, sure,” she says, standing too. “Of course.”

He smiles through their goodbyes, never wavering even as he eases the door shut behind her, but Rebecca can’t bring herself to return it.

###

“We have donuts,” Paula says, opening the front door to the house before Rebecca’s even reached it and ushering her grandly inside. “And all the girly, post-breakup support you could ever need.”

“Paula wouldn’t let us get any plain ones,” Valencia says, eyeing the pink box with distaste. “So you can have mine.”

“What’s all that?” Rebecca asks, gesturing to the mess on the coffee table.

“Manicure equipment! I’m thinking French tips.”

“Okay,” Rebecca says, feeling like she’s two steps behind…or across town, still in Nathaniel’s apartment. “Sure.”

“You get to pick the movie, too,” Heather says, glancing up from the thick paperback novel in her lap. “But, like, if you respect me at all as a person, you’ll refrain from choosing a musical.”

“Aw, I was actually kinda hoping she’d pick something bright and fun, like _Mamma Mia!_ ,” Valencia says.

“That’s because you won’t have to live with her for the next week. She’s going to be singing the songs constantly.”

“Yeah,” Valencia says, “duh.”

Heather pulls a pillow out from behind her back and lobs it at V’s head.

“Careful now. You wouldn’t want me spilling electric blue nail polish on your nice, light carpets, would you?” she asks, her voice cheerfully threatening.

Heather shrugs. “Oh, I don’t care. Rebecca’s the one who put the security deposit down.”

“Hey,” Rebecca says.

“Calm down. You know I have more respect for my living space than you. I mean, it’s not like _I’m_ the one who leaves dishes in the sink until they grow an entire ecosystem,” Heather says, licking her thumb and then pointedly turning a page in her book.

“That happened once,” Rebecca says. “Three times, max.”

“Alright you guys,” Paula says, herding Rebecca toward the couch. “Break it up.”

Rebecca continues to frown at Heather as she folds herself onto the ground in front of Valencia, who immediately grabs for her left hand and starts filing.

“Tragic,” she mutters under her breath, poking at Rebecca’s cuticles. “Just tragic.”

“So,” Paula says, nudging Rebecca with her knee. “What happened?”

“Um.” She clears her throat and fixes her stare on a random spot on the wall. “Nothing, really?”

Valencia pauses in her filing to quirk an eyebrow at Rebecca, but she pretends not notice.

“What does that mean?” Paula asks.

“It means that it went well. I guess.”

“I think Paula’s looking for something a little more specific,” Heather points out.

“Please,” Paula says.

Rebecca shakes her head. “I don’t know. I told him I couldn’t date him, and he was basically like ‘yeah, you mentioned that before, and I respect you because I’m so mature and emotionally evolved blah blah blah’.”

“You sound just like him,” Heather says, not looking up from her book.

Rebecca tries to throw a foam toe separator at her, but it practically lands in her own lap.

“Stop jerking around,” Valencia growls.

“I don’t understand,” Paula says. “Isn’t this a good thing? I mean, a little unexpected. I definitely had Nathaniel pegged as a fit-thrower. When that boy snaps, he just goes for it, you know?”

Rebecca feels a frustrated heat working its way into her cheeks. “Yeah, it’s great. There was nothing to worry about, and I’m just the idiot who made the whole thing out to be something it wasn’t in my head. So. Yay, me!”

“Oh, honey, you’re not an idiot,” Paula says.

“Well,” Valencia says, drawing the word out in a judgmental sing-song. Rebecca narrows her eyes at her, and she shrugs. “I’m just saying, historically speaking you do make mountains out of molehills.”

“So helpful, thank you,” Rebecca says.

“Let’s not forget that this guy camped out in her bedroom for nearly a whole week while she was in New York, though,” Heather says. “It’s not, like, completely unfair of Rebecca to assume he’s totally bonkers in love with her.”

“You guys bring that up a lot. Did that really happen?”

“He spent a creepy amount of time here,” Heather confirms. “Like, his continued presence was the most distressing part about your whole rock-bottom, mental-breakdown thing. I think at one point he tried to shower with your stuffed alligator.”

“Cool. Love you, too.”

“Nathaniel’s own, erm, intensity aside,” Paula says, leaning forward on the couch to place a hand on Rebecca’s shoulder. “Let’s count this misunderstanding as more good than bad, alright? He’s giving you space, and I won’t have to set up some kind of unfortunate, punishing accident for him to walk into.”

“If anything,” Valencia says, buffing Rebecca’s nails, “this does prove that he’ll totally be worthy of something more serious when the timing’s right. It’s decent of him to take all his cues from you.”

“Yeah,” Rebecca says, hating the grudging edge to her voice.

“What’s wrong?” Paula asks.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. This turned out great, and I’m so relieved.”

Rebecca can feel both Paula and Valencia’s disbelieving eyes on her.

“Guys,” Heather says, glancing up from her book. “Come on. It’s obvious that, given Rebecca’s abysmal history with men, Nathaniel giving her up so easily has, like, totally exacerbated her deepest-seated insecurities about being unlovable.”

Valencia and Paula let out a prolonged “ _Ohhhh_ ,” in unison.

“Shut up,” Rebecca says, hating that the words resonate.

“I just call ‘em like I see ‘em,” Heather says with a shrug.

“Oh yeah? Well, who wants to watch _Mamma Mia!_?”

“I do!” Valencia says.

“I’m always in the mood for ABBA,” Paula says.

“You guys are the worst,” Heather says, turning back to her book, but not before Rebecca notices the slightest hint of a smile.

###

It starts out as a jokey thought. Something like, _if I’m not going to be getting orgasms from Nathaniel anymore, I might as well make orgasms with Rebecca more fun_.

That’s how she ends up with five hundred dollars’ worth of vibrators waiting in her cart.

It’s not even like she has a lack of vibrators. Her collection has been described as extensive by some. But she hasn’t added any new ones in a while and, well, she feels like pity treating herself.

As she reaches into her bag for her credit card, though, her hand closes around the jewelry box that she’d hastily shoved inside earlier. She pulls it out, vibrators forgotten, and pops open the lid.

Logically, she knows that the Nathaniel who’d gotten her this nice present and the Nathaniel who’d been respectfully distant with her is the same person with the same general feelings. But the little goblins in her brain won’t stop insisting that sometime between him buying the earrings and this afternoon, he just stopped liking her very much.

With a frown, she crawls off her bed and leans in close to the mirror above her dresser. After sweeping her hair over one shoulder, she removes the simple studs she’s wearing and replaces them with the tiny, golden bows. They catch the soft light of her lamp as she turns her head from side to side.

She sighs and lets her gaze drop from her earlobes to her pressed-thin lips but takes her time working up to her own eyes. Rebecca hates the hurt, confused, angry girl she finds staring back at her. The girl who feels everything too much and has no way of keeping any of that abundance to herself. She just lets it all spill out of her—a broken, gushing fountain.

Before the sob crawling its way higher and higher in her throat can escape, Rebecca turns her back on her reflection. But the sight of her rumpled sheets and Ruth Gator Ginsburg resting across the foot of her mattress does nothing to ease her building feeling of restlessness.

She wonders how anyone could spend a whole day alone in her room. After all, she barely manages each night. Desolation is the only thing that’s ever had the power to pin her in bed for long periods of time.

With that thought, Rebecca dives for her purse, shoves her feet into the first pair of shoes she finds on the floor of her closet, and steps out of the bedroom into the cool air of the night.

###

She ends up at a restaurant across town. It looks pretty nondescript from the outside: a tall, concrete building with picture windows in the front, both framing crowded tables and cluttered with posters for craft beer.

One of the first things she notices when she steps inside is the signs pointing the way to the rooftop bar. She follows the arrows to a steep, narrow staircase.

The perfectly trimmed hedges and white twinkle lights she finds at the top are all at once predictable and charming.

It’s crowded enough that she has to elbow her way up to the bar, but not so packed that she won’t be able to find an undisturbed corner in which to huddle.

Once she’s opened a tab, she takes her glass of rosé to the edge of the rooftop and looks out over the majestic West Covina business district. She listens to the women on her right argue over who’s less prepared for their pitch tomorrow morning as she sips her drink.

Work. Rebecca thinks maybe she’ll take another week or two dedicated to recovery before she goes back out of sheer boredom.

Actually, the closer she gets to the bottom of her glass, the more wistful for the Whitefeather office she feels. Maybe it’s a good thing Nathaniel’s done with his feelings for her, a good thing he’s put them up on a high, untouchable shelf. That way, when she becomes his employee again, they can go back to being professionally detached without any weirdness.

A giggle escapes her before she can suppress it. _Detached_. Yeah, right. Rebecca’s relationship with Nathaniel has cycled through a surprising number of evolutions considering how little they actually know each other, but they’ve never been _indifferent_ to the other. Quite the opposite.

“Need another drink,” Rebecca says to no one, heading for the bar.

She’s about to grab the glass the bartender sets in front of her and return to the balcony when something catches her eye across the counter. Something about the way someone rolls their wrist and gestures with their fingers feels familiar.

When she spots Nathaniel, she freezes in place.

He must feel her staring because after a second, his gaze is drawn to her. At first, his eyes slide right past her, but then they snap back, going comically wide.

As if that weren’t enough, he then squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head back and forth purposefully before opening them again.

She huffs out an almost-laugh and pushes her way over to the other side of the bar.

“Of all the gin joints, huh?” she asks.

Music drifts lazily from the restaurant speakers out into the night and there’s enough ambient chatter that she has to lean almost all the way into him to catch what he says in response: “Am I hallucinating?”

She tilts her head at him, jerking her chin toward the glass he’d just accepted from the bartender. “What number scotch is that?”

“Number plausible hallucination,” he says.

“Okay, well, I don’t think that’s actually a side effect of consuming alcohol,” she says, “and I’m not a hallucination.”

“That,” Nathaniel says, letting his head loll back so he can stare skeptically at her down the length of his nose, “is exactly what a hallucination would want me to think.”

Rebecca bites the inside of her cheek. “Are you here with someone? I don’t think I can leave you alone until I know there’s someone to stop you from driving yourself home or, like, passing out in a public restroom for the night.”

“Ah, no, this isn’t a social outing,” he says. “I’m drinking with purpose. Got a lot of things to forget. Which is probably why you’re here. As punishment for attempting the impossible.”

The words land in the pit of her stomach, making it gurgle uncomfortably.

“Right then,” she says, backing away. “I’ll just leave you to it.”

She has no idea how he manages to cut off her exit, especially considering how close he comes to toppling over, but he does.

“You can’t leave,” he says. “You’re _my_ hallucination.”

She rolls her eyes. “Not a hallucination.”

He wags his finger at her, and she hates that the urge to smile bites at her cheeks. “That’s not very convincing at all. You’re gonna have to do better.”

“Oh, my god,” she says, grabbing one of his wrists. She guides his hand to her chest and presses his palm flat over her heart. “Feel that? Hallucinations don’t have heartbeats, right? They can walk through walls and, I don’t know, teleport. I can’t do either of those things because I’m a real human person, stuck in this moment of time. For better or worse.”

She’s not sure he catches any of her speech, though. The second she touches him, his eyes lose focus, and the possibility that she didn’t really think this through creeps up on her.

“Um.” She licks her lips, and her eyelids flutter, almost closing. But she forces them open, not wanting to allow herself to indulge in the warmth of his touch. In the way his fingertips tease her clavicle—damn his long fingers—or curl into her skin as if he’s trying to reach inside and catch her accelerating heartbeat.

She steps back, and his hand falls to his side.

“See?” she says. “Completely corporeal.”

He hums in acknowledgement.

They both stand there for a long moment, stoic and uncertain, until Nathaniel pitches forward without warning.

Rebecca barely manages to stop him from landing face down on the ground. With a soft cry of surprise, she steps into him, catching his chest with her shoulder and winding her arm around his waist.

“Whoa there, buddy,” she says, trying to jerk him upright.

“Everything is spinning,” he says, wincing.

For the second time that day, Rebecca feels the urge to press the lines in his face smooth with her thumb.

Instead, she knocks back the remaining wine in her glass and sets it on the nearest available surface—which just happens to be a cement planter—before grabbing the scotch out of Nathaniel’s hand.

“Okay, looks like the honor of drunkie patrol falls to me.”

“For better or worse,” he says quietly. The only reason she’s able to hear him is his face is pressed against the top of her head.

She allows herself a small smile, and then schools her features into something she hopes conveys encouraging sternness. “C’mon, let’s go. Yup, that’s it. Nice and slow.”

###

“You’re wearing the earrings.”

Rebecca flushes and combs her hair out from behind her ear. “Um, yeah.”

“I think that’s a point in favor of hallucination,” Nathaniel says, as seriously as he can manage when the ends of his words are all slipping.

“Drink your coffee,” she says, pushing the to-go cup closer to his face. He obediently takes a sip and then quirks an eyebrow at her. She sighs. “I’m not a hallucination, you drunk freak.”

“Real Rebecca wouldn’t be wearing those,” he insists.

“I am real Rebecca,” she says, rolling her eyes toward the sky. They’re sitting on the curb outside Starbucks, his long legs stretched out in front of him and her feet propped up against a parking block. Even with the bright, evenly-spaced parking lot lights, she can see the moon, bright against the inky night.

“Real Rebecca thought they were some kind of grand proclamation,” he says sullenly, talking into his cup.

For a second, she bites back her questions. After all, he’s uninhibited and clearly out of touch with reality. It seems unfair to mine for information.

On the other hand, he’s uninhibited and probably won’t remember too much when he wakes up. How much harm could it actually do?

She swallows hard before asking, “And it wasn’t?”

“I don’t know.” He takes another sip of coffee.

“Come on, dude. You’re telling me you can’t recall a single thought that rolled through that brain of yours while ordering jewelry for a girl you distinctly remember telling you she wasn’t ready for a relationship?”

His eyes land on her and then jump quickly away, almost like he’s checking to make sure she hasn’t shimmered out of existence.

“So you _are_ here to punish me.”

She has the decency to feel the tiniest bit guilty for the vindication that floods through her like a surge of adrenaline. “So it _was_ a Gesture with a capital-G.”

“It was…just something I felt like doing,” he says, frowning. “I didn’t really take the time to think about it.”

Rebecca doesn’t really know what to make of the fact that she gets a little breathless thinking of Nathaniel impulsively buying her a gift, so she clears her throat. “How’s the coffee working? Think you’ll be steadier on your feet?”

“Only one way to find out,” he says, raising his cup to her before guzzling the rest of it. “Let’s go.”

With a nod, she scrambles to her feet, scraping both her palms in the process. After brushing off the debris, she holds her hands out to him. She tugs a little too hard trying to pull him up, though, and he stumbles into her. He has to plant his hands firmly against the small of her back to keep them from toppling over.

She takes a deep, steadying breath. Since her face is pressed against the front of his shirt, the scent of his deodorant fills her nose, and she finds herself leaning in just a little closer. There’s a hint of something unfamiliar, too, something like—

“I’m sorry,” she says, stepping out of the circle of his arms. “Did you put on cologne to go get drinks by yourself?”

“Well excuse me for trying to feel a little prettier on a bad day.”

She chokes out a laugh. “Are you serious?”

He quirks an eyebrow at her. “Are hallucinations obligated to kick a man while he’s down?”

She shakes her head, and they walk in silence for a couple minutes before she says, “I think you’re pretty even without cologne.”

“You’re mocking me,” he says, smiling up at the sky. He veers a little to the right, knocking into her.

She places a hand on his forearm, gently guiding him back. “Only a little.”

“I’ll take it.”

They’re quiet even longer this time. Rebecca can make out Nathaniel’s building at the end of the block before she works up the nerve to break the silence.

She squeezes his arm. “She liked the earrings, you know? I mean…I— _I_ liked the earrings. It was a beautiful gesture, capital-G or otherwise.”

He glances down at her, a couple emotions playing over his face before he settles on a wry smile.

“Spoken like a hallucination.”

“Yeah, I brought that one on myself.”

He laughs.

###

Nathaniel stumbles toward his bed as soon as he gets his apartment unlocked.

“Whoa, careful there,” Rebecca warns, watching him fall face-first into the mattress as soon as he reaches it.

“The whole world’s been knocked from its axis. Do you think that’s a problem?”

“Pretty much only for you,” she says, stepping up to the foot of the bed and easing his shoes off.

“Hmm, that doesn’t seem fair.”

She has to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

“I’m gonna get you some water. Need anything else?”

“Tylenol,” he says with a groan.

“Copy that.”

She takes her time in his kitchen despite the fact that she’s actually pretty familiar with where everything is, filling a glass with water from the tap and leaning against the counter for a minute.

Though she’s not exactly antsy to leave—drunk Nathaniel’s kind of fun—the stupid, responsible part of her brain keeps offering up the list of dangers that’ll come with hanging out, tipsy and alone, in his apartment for much longer.

Still, there is the possibility he’ll need someone around to make sure he doesn’t vomit all over himself. Maybe she’ll call George and make this his problem. She imagines the face Nathaniel would make when he wakes up to a wicked hangover and George hovering over him and smiles to herself.

She finishes off her water before grabbing one of the bottles from the fridge, as well as the Tylenol from the cabinet above the sink.

By the time she returns to the main room, Nathaniel’s crawled his way up the bed and is sprawled out on his back. He managed to undo his belt and wiggle halfway out of his pants, but they’re stuck low on his thighs.

He’s also clutching his forehead with both hands.

“Looks like I’m just in time,” she says, holding up the water bottle.

He accepts it and presses it to his forehead, his cheeks, letting out a loud moan. Rebecca gulps.

“Alright, well, these’ll just be right here,” she says, setting the pills on his nightstand.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Do you want—I’m just gonna…here,” she finishes helplessly, easing the slacks off his legs.

“This is definitely above and beyond the normal call of hallucination duty,” he says with a relieved sigh. She smiles at the playful edge in his voice and watches as he tries to kick the comforter out from underneath him.

“Here, let me…”

She trails off, pulling the sheets back and then draping them over him. His eyes follow her face as she tucks him in.

“Stop that,” she says.

“Hmm?”

She glances up at his headboard, not quite able to meet his stare. “I can feel you watching me, creep.”

His eyes widen. “Was I making the Candle Wax Rebecca face?”

Her hands still and her eyebrows shoot up her forehead. “Were you making the what now?”

Nathaniel shakes his head and says mournfully, “The Candle Wax Rebecca face.”

“Yeah, that’s not—that doesn’t make anything clearer.”

“Have you ever noticed how people get a soft, drippy look about them when they’re looking at or thinking about the object of their affection?” he asks, sighing.

Rebecca licks her lips, feels her stomach bottom out. “Ah, soft and drippy. Like candle wax. Clever.”

“It’s disgusting,” he says emphatically, and she almost cracks a smile.

“So, uh.” She swallows, letting her eyes flutter closed. “You have a special candle wax face for me?”

“Regretfully,” he says, his voice low and, since she’s still hovering over him, so close to her ear.

“Regretfully?”

“No one can pull off _drippy_ , Rebecca. Not even me.”

Something about the way he says her name draws a soft whine out of her. Hoping he’s too drunk to notice, she forces herself to finish straightening the sheets.

She’s about to stand and move far, far away from him when he catches one of her arms.

“Hey,” he says, sending a surge of unwanted excitement through her veins. It originates from where his thumb presses against the inside of her wrist.

“Nathaniel.”

She means for it to be a warning, but it comes out like a whimper.

“Hey,” he says again, bringing her hand to his face and pressing a kiss into her palm. His smooth lips brush over the fresh scrapes there, light enough to tickle, and she shivers.

“We shouldn’t do this,” she says.

He hums in acknowledgement, but drags his nose along the inside of her forearm, raising goosebumps.

She’s not sure at what exact moment she decides to give in—whether it’s when he kisses the dark freckle on the inside of her elbow or when he murmurs “Do you think that’s what upset the balance of the world? The power you hold over my heart?” into the sensitive skin—but give in she does. Before the sensible part of her brain reboots, Rebecca’s toeing off her shoes and scrambling onto the bed.

Nathaniel lets out a low groan when she slings one of her legs over his body, settling into a straddle over his hips. His hand moves immediately into her hair, his warm palm cradling the back of her head, and hauls her mouth down to his.

The nagging voice in Rebecca’s mind that tells her to enjoy this since there’s a good chance it’ll be the final time is the last one she pays attention to before stifling all coherent thought.

They’d developed a certain rhythm in the last week—a comfortable give and take—and she’s kind of thrilled to find that their mutual drunkenness pushes the ebb and flow of their kisses into uncharted territory. It’s almost like discovering what it’s like to kiss him all over again.

It’s sloppy and uncoordinated and a tiny bit painful, though whether that’s the desperation she feels blooming in her chest or the faint scrape of his five o’clock shadow she’s not sure.

The spell is broken when she tries to sneak under the covers, eager to feel the warmth of his body more completely, and the water bottle falls off the bed and rolls away. They both freeze like they’ve been caught doing something they shouldn’t…because they are.

“We can’t,” Rebecca says piteously. She falls onto her side, pushing her face into one of his pillows and wrapping her arms around her waist. “And not just because I’m pretty sure the fact that you think I’m a figment of your imagination makes this dubious consent at best.”

He rotates onto his side, eyes searching her face. She hopes he finds some resolve there, even though she doesn’t feel any.

“Okay,” he says finally, nodding, but his disappointment is palpable. She closes her eyes to block it out, but his clouding expression is even clearer in her mind. “I understand.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to…,” she says, trailing off and fisting the front of his shirt. It only takes a gentle tug to get him to scoot closer to her. She lets out a sigh. “Here.”

He hums—she feels the rumble in his chest—and trails a couple of fingers along her hairline. She squirms as he pushes some of the curls back behind her shoulder…and then his thumb brushes her earlobe and she lets out an embarrassing mewl of a noise.

With an almost-mute laugh, he shifts even closer. The tip of his nose brushes hers.

“Here?” he asks.

She nods, fingers relaxing their grip on the fabric of his shirt. They smooth up his chest, all the way around to the back of his neck. A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips when he lets out a contented puff of air as she curls her palm around the back of his neck, holding him there.

“Here,” she confirms.

###

Rebecca jolts awake to the sound of her phone ringing. She reaches for her nightstand, but when her hand comes in contact with a warm lump, she remembers that she’s not, in fact, in her room at all.

She sits up quickly in the bed and scrambles toward the edge. Her phone stops ringing before she’s managed to stand…and then promptly starts again.

After patting down her pockets and coming up empty, her foggy brain reminds her that she’d dropped her bag by the front door when she’d come in.

Cursing under her breath, Rebecca fumbles through the darkness. When she finally gets to her phone, she answers it without really looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Rebecca?”

“Yes?” It takes her a second to realize who’s on the other end because she’s never sounded quite so agitated before. “Heather? Is that you?”

“Are you dead or hurt?” Heather asks, her voice steely. “In danger of any kind?”

“No, I’m—” She stops herself just short of saying _at Nathaniel’s place_. “No.”

“Well then you better have the wildest fucking story about why you’re not in your room at two in the morning, and it’d better involve kidnapping because there’s no other acceptable reason for you to not tell me you’d be going out.”

Nathaniel rolls over in bed, groaning softly, and Rebecca sucks her lower lip into her mouth.

“Um…”

“I’m waiting!”

Rebecca exhales through her nose. “Fine, I’m at Nathaniel’s.”

“Oh, my god.”

“I swear, it’s not what you think.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“No, wait,” Rebecca says, way too loud. She clears her throat and tries again, quieter this time. “Can you actually come pick me up?”

Heather grunts. “Where’s your car?”

“I left it at a bar—I was too drunk to drive it.”

“Oh good, there was alcohol involved. And here I thought you were making bad decisions.”

“That’s not fair.”

“You wanna talk not fair?” Heather asks, her voice getting low and rough. “Try waking up to find your roommate, who recently ran off and attempted suicide, is missing without a word.”

Rebecca swallows hard. “Oh man, Heather, I didn’t even think—”

“Yeah, what else is new?”

Her stomach churns, threatening to cave in on itself. She doesn’t know what to say, so she offers a meek, “I’m sorry.”

Heather grumbles something that Rebecca can’t quite make out. Then, speaking clearly into the phone, she says, “Text me the address.”

She hangs up before Rebecca can reply.

After taking a moment to let waves of guilt and self-loathing crash over her, she stands up and turns on her cell’s flashlight. “Shoes. Where are my shoes?”

She finds them next to Nathaniel’s bed, along with the judgmental water bottle, which she sets back on the nightstand.

For a brief moment, she considers writing a note. But then he’d have proof that his night was not actually spent with hallucination Rebecca, and she’s not sure she wants that.

Instead, she leans over him and kisses his temple. “Thanks for…” The words _drinking yourself into a stupor for me_ don’t exactly capture the right sentiment. After a moment of lingering, she settles on, “For caring more than you let on.”

Then, as quietly as she can, Rebecca leaves, easing the door shut behind her.

###

It only takes Heather about fifteen minutes to get to Nathaniel’s apartment complex. Her hair is piled on the top of her head, and she has on glasses and silky pajamas.

She scowls at Rebecca as she walks around the front of her car.

“I didn’t know you needed corrective lenses,” Rebecca says as she buckles her seatbelt.

Heather doesn’t put the car in gear, just continues to scowl. “They’re for night driving. I considered not wearing them to increase the chances that I might kill you for this and not go to jail, but I figured that would still be as much of a punishment for me. My insurance is already freaking expensive.”

Rebecca bats her eyelashes. “You’re a good roommate and an even better friend.”

“Oh, this isn’t a favor,” Heather says. “You’ll be doing my chores for a month.”

“That’s fair, I deserve that. But it doesn’t make you any less of a good friend.”

Heather jerks her chin up and studies Rebecca for a moment. Finally, she puts the car in drive. “I know.”

“I didn’t sleep with him,” Rebecca says after a beat. “I didn’t even plan to see him tonight. I just needed to get out of the house, and we ran into each other.”

“I wouldn’t have cared if you did,” Heather says.

“Okay.”

“Just warn me next time before you disappear into the night.”

“I can do that.”

They’re quiet for a moment before Heather says, “For the record, I think it’s pretty cool of you to try to break your old patterns. But you realize it’s not going to be easy, right? You’re allowed to, like, take those two steps back and not get down on yourself for it. So long as you keep moving forward after you’re done, you know?”

Rebecca clutches her chest. “That’s…Heather!”

“I know. Gets you right where you live.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

Heather snorts. “Not even a little bit.”

“Hey, you hungry? Cause I could go for some fries right now. Oh, and onion rings. Maybe a cheeseburger.”

Heather shakes her head, but turns onto East Cameron, heading for the center of town.

“Thaa-aaaanks,” Rebecca says, and then reaches into her bag for her phone. “Now all we need is the right music to set the mood. Girl’s night!”

“We are _not_ making this a big thing,” Heather says.

But Rebecca’s already plugging her phone into the car stereo. After a second, her chosen song comes blasting out of the speakers.

“ _I’ve been cheated by you_ ,” Rebecca sings along, “ _since you know when_.”

“Please, do not do this,” Heather says.

“Come on! Sing with me.”

“That will never happen.”

“Mood killer.”

“I will turn this car around and you’ll never know the joy of drunken, greasy potatoes.”

“ _But_ _I suddenly lose control_ ,” Rebecca sings, leaning into her. “ _There’s a fire within my soul_.”

“My ears are going to start bleeding, and I will send you the hospital bills,” Heather yells over her.

For all her protesting, though, she’s mouthing along by the time they get to the second chorus. Rebecca does her the courtesy of pretending not to notice.


End file.
